Astute Contemplations
by Hanks-a-lot
Summary: A South American civil war erupts, but one horrific battle has been averted. Now one of the League representatives sent to safeguard an orphanage has time to reflect. Batman's thoughts turn to the attractive Wonder Woman, his trusted pal, Superman, and the Id—ah, the rookie, Plastic Man. But there is a dangerous individual on the prowl who won't let Batman contemplate too long.
1. Chapter 1

_Astute Contemplations_ by Hanks-a-lot

INTRO— This is a Batman point-of-view story. It will not be influenced by a certain professional writer by the name of Bruce. Some say that since he shares the same first name as the character (and perhaps transposes himself into the hero), this individual presents Bruce Wayne as Mr. Invincible. Batman can beat up gods, giants and who-knows-who. No, this Batman is portrayed realistically in physical attributes. He's very aware of himself and at times impatient.

In this three-chapter story, three fellow Justice Leaguers are seen through Batman's eyes. Sometimes, two of them will not be looked upon favorably. The third, well….

For reference sake: Metropolis in the DC Universe is New York here. Gotham City is Chicago.

Disclaimer: All Characters, except three, are properties of D.C. Comics. Grandma Kent is "based" on a character from another reality and hence this story cannot be considered a crossover. Miguel Florencio dela Fuerza and Pastor Flores exist here only.

Chapter One: Relief and Reflections

"We're here," a strong, feminine voice announced over his communicator's ear piece. Batman recognized the voice and immediately knew who the other person of that "we" was— they were becoming insufferably inseparable. Still, it was a welcome message that brought a promise. It meant that the increasing sound of gunfire was going to diminish fast. And under a cloudy morning sky, the inside of the building, where he stood, seemed to appear brighter.

He stepped back from the Venetian blinds. Though he was trained to move stealthily, the creaking of the old wooden floor betrayed his movements. Surrounded by the peeling, off-white walls of the living room, Batman continued to hold the mini-screen steadily in his right hand. He still wanted to see the images sent from the adhesive-backed, penny-sized cameras that he placed around the outside walls of the building.

The Batman finally acknowledged the transmission and smiled. Outwardly, the smile was out of place—the dark-attired figure was never known to exhibit such facial exercises. There was also the current situation that made the rolling of his cheeks quite bizarre. He and Plastic Man were in South Venezuela, inside of a three-story orphanage. Armed government opposition forces had engaged the army in a large gun battle on the far side of the mountain. Their fight was expected to wrap around to this side of the mountain at dawn. The few families in the small village evacuated quickly after the League representatives alerted them. But without enough adults to shepherd the young orphans, the night exodus would have proven just as dangerous for them.

When the sky exchanged her garment from black to grey, the battle indeed reached their side. The children were gathered in the upper floor of the home built against the mountainside.

The Justice League did not take sides in the war, but now two of its members were on the ground floor guarding the entrances to the building. NO ONE—not a rebel, not a soldier—was going to enter the orphanage in order to set up a sniper's nest. If that happened, the opposing gunnery would bombard the building without a care for the children and caretakers.

Still, Bruce's peculiar pediment of ivory white rested upon three pillars. First, the fact that they were here testified to Batman's success in reminding the League that the world could go out in a collection of whispers as well as a big bang. Wonder Woman and Superman exerted their influences in support of Bruce when he said that they should be more attuned to regional events. Braniac and Darkseid were not coming daily to destroy the planet. The League again began looking _around _instead of only up.

Second, this new blue-and-red Dynamic Duo out there were probably disarming the fighters and dumping them miles apart from each other. Their action afforded Batman a rare treat of light contemplation.

Speaking of which, Diana and Clark were also the third reason for his smile. The nonsensical parry and dodge of two extremely powerful people afraid of each other's reaction was about to end. Not a moment too soon— it was getting on Bruce's nerves. Clark, the timid, was about to grow a pair and finally come out and reveal his feelings later today. Bruce knew what her answer was going to be, so he had no care about his friend's forwardness. But that didn't mean that he had to be there for all the gushy-blushy B.S. that would follow. Plastic Man was going to fill out the report afterwards. Bruce was heading back to Chicago.

If anyone had dared think that Batman cared for any of this triviality and had asked him if they were good together, he'd say: "Look at Clark. That spineless attitude of 'Please-Mr.- Bad-Guy-don't-do-anything-wrong- because-I'd-hate-to-hurt–you' is gone. He's more assertive, proactive, and unapologetic."

The New York City Police Department had heard rumors about Superman playing games. He was gun-stripping mob bosses and dropping them into the midst of rival gangs. The promise of these little friendly visits has provided a lot of information on future activities. And if they were to press _kidnapping_ charges against Superman, … well the Kryptonian's memory might slip and he'd forget where he left the boss on the next play-date. Last minute rescues are harder to perform in that instance. This had all the flavor of an Amazon interrogation. Good for Clark.

The land-rich, pockets-poor farm boy was also playing hardball with Grandma Linda Kent's beach properties in Santo Largo and Colorado Point, Aruba. Not so good for Bruce who needed those areas to expand his resorts. This just had to be a result of a friendly Amazon influence, also. Damn, he never met anyone who reveled in bargaining like Diana. It was more than an obsession with her.

Going back to the question, Bruce would add, "Look at Diana. The regimented demeanor that barely registered life has dropped all guardedness. For a year and a half Clark has had her laughing at something stupid he says or does every ten minutes."

Speaking of stupid, no one had better get Bruce started on the silly malady with which Clark had infected Diana. For example: Two mornings ago, at the League cafeteria, Superman sat down with a plate of pancakes opposite Bruce. To no one's surprise, Diana joined them on Clark's side. The demure princess gingerly but assertively reprimanded Clark for not eating healthier. She pushed the butter and syrup away from his reach. She then offered to share the fruits and berries on her plate, but he refused.

Seconds later, Clark mumbled something about sissy armies and manly armies. He cut up his pancakes and, using his fork as a catapult, he hurled pancake pieces as boulders onto the soldiers of fruit on her plate. She leaned into him, laughing. Whatever the measure of her army, Diana wasn't a sissy general, if that was what Clark thought. When she collected herself, she countered with her own cannonballs of fruit. Bruce was growing tired of the silliness. Just as he reached the limit of his patience, a truce was settled. In the end, they agreed that pancakes with fruit were better than pancakes with butter and syrup.

Looking back, Bruce wasn't the only one who noticed their growing intimacy, but he was certainly the first. He was Batman, after all— he (and others) expected no less of his perceptive powers. Clark had those once in a quintet-decade Hollywood, multi-mega-good looks that could charm a strong-willed tightwad billionaire widow out of all her assets. Diana noticed his effects on women, so she playfully called him "Ug"—for ugly— when she thought no one was around. Of course, Bruce thought he could beat him a country mile in the looks department. Unfortunately, the hood hid much of his grandeur. Without Batman's mask, Bruce Wayne was the number-one sought-after bachelor, after all. Who could possibly argue the fact? Hmm— probably the she-half of that previously mentioned "we." But definitely, no rational mind would.

On the other side was the princess. Diana had that once-in-a-quintet-century, demi-goddess level of beauty that, at first sight, hammered a person's brain numb to all the surroundings. Clark saw how she could turn men's heads, so he countered her tease with his own. "Hid"— for hideous—was his covert response. How could they not find each other attractive?

Like everyone else, Bruce's eyes bulged when she had been introduced to him (thank God for the white filters attached to the eye-openings of his mask). Several times he had to fight back the urge to make his move on her, but reality was a perfect gate-keeper.

Where would it have gone? She was brilliance, like the sun, chasing away darkness. He was the less radiant moon. He lived in and exposed the dark. She was so perky—some days to the point of nauseating him… just as Clark did. Bruce was more earth-centered. She soared up above the pure summer rain looking to rescue. Bruce sparred in the trenches, dirtying his hands in the act of rescuing. When reason slept, he would love nothing better than to have her as his. When rational had awakened, he knew he'd never leave his wife— Chicago.

Bruce, though, did take mistresses during his "marriage." He had Selina, Vicky, Thalia, Kimiyo, Cindy— wait, was Cindy the real name of fellow Leaguer, Gypsy? Was he mistakenly giving the heroine a name that belonged to another? Was Cindy the young detective that he pushed off onto the Red Tornado because she became too clingy?

Didn't matter, he needed variety. But he always returned to his "wife." Come to think of it, that need for variety would have cost him a loss of a plumbing instrument if a certain Amazon was won over and became as clingy as that other woman.

Even if one would take all that out of the equation, there was the time element. What would happen in 12 years, when he'd slow down, but she'd remain physically sharp? What would happen in 22 years when he had to dye his hair and surgically stretch his face so that wise-mouths wouldn't refer to Diana as his daughter? In 32 years when age and his pursuit of justice took their toll and a walker helped him come to the dining room when he'd invite the ever-sturdy Clark to dine with him and the ever-youthful Diana? That would be the biggest blow to Bruce.

Thanks, but no thanks. He'd have to live with the disappointment of never having Diana's love by getting lost in the arms of… of – hmm, whose turn was it? It's the beginning of the month— Lois, Clark's old flame, is always scheduled at this time for a weekend in Wayne Manor.

Bruce came around to the present with the acknowledgment that the gunfire had stopped. He again approached the Venetian blinds. Outside, the road was crumbling due to age and reddening due to the baking sun. It led Bruce's eyes to the neighboring abodes. The sparse houses in the small village were still standing. Most likely the inhabitants would return and find the benefit of air-flow cooling in their homes, thanks to the bullet holes.

Suddenly he heard a crashing sound coming from the kitchen. Batman's silent sprint towards the back of the house slowed as he neared his destination. Again, the wooden floor moaned underneath him as he stopped just a step before the archway entrance into the kitchen. His keen mind had already come up with three different scenarios of attack in the event that the noise meant that one combatant hadescaped Superman and Wonder Woman.

A threatening, deep voice spoke out in English with a light but distinguishable accent.

"Oh come on, Murcielago ("Bat"). Come out from behind that wall. I will not shoot you. Instead, there is something I need. We'll find something that can benefit both of us."

Batman cautiously revealed his head to the intruder. Sitting on the kitchen floor with half an orange in his hands was the half-wit whom Bruce avoided calling "Plastic **_Man_**." Where Clark was, at times, forgivably childlike, this fool was constantly _childish_. Now this imbecile was on the floor looking puzzled. Behind Patrick— the Plastic Moron— O'Brian's left shoulder, an athletic-looking figure stood. His dark uniform looked nothing like that of the olive-green Venezuelan Army outfits.

His deep-set eyes only brought more attention to his defined, dark eyebrows. The dark goatee adorning his squared chin was just as striking. The man's right index and middle fingers were on the rings of two hand grenades which were secured in his left hand.

In a cold voice he said, "I will not have this territory open to a future possession of the rebels, Murcielago. Give me this: Tell your two friends outside to return _allllll _the soldiers here. And I'll give you this: The house and the children will _not_ go" – a wicked smile stretched across his hardened face— "poof."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Get Back On Course

The intruder did not move from behind the floored Plastic Man. "I am honored to meet you," he said.

With self-appreciation he introduced himself. "I am Miguel Florencio de la Fuerza. I am captain of the President's Elite Guards."

Bruce had heard of him; hand-to-hand combat specialist, brilliant man-hunter, … but also an overly cruel interrogator.

"When I heard that you might be here, I took the assignment of overseeing the battle myself. I wanted to see you. In Venezuela, I am as feared as you are in your country. Only I do not use a mask. I enjoy the terror in my opponent's face when he sees mine.

"But I digress. I came to look upon the man who was beyond his peers, so much like myself."

"That's your third mistake," Batman said stonily. "I am like no one else. We are as comparable as an eagle is to a gnat. And guess who the gnat is."

The reply visibly disturbed the captain for a fleeting moment. After a halfhearted chuckle, the intruder continued.

"I think you view yourself a bit grander than reality reveals; but given your reputation, it is understandable. "

Batman looked down into Pat O'Brian's shades and asked, "Are you going to get up or are you trying to warm up the floor with your butt?"

Oh no."—Pat closed his left fist and directed the hand's thumb towards the dangerous figure behind him— "Manny the Menace said 'Freeze.' So long as he's holding the pop-pineapples, I'm freezing…. Not that I want to give you the impression that I'm cold, but—"

"I get the drift," Batman replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Murcielago," the captain said with equal irritation. Bruce rightly had him pegged as an attention-seeking primo donna. The American Legend should be centered on the threat that de la Fuerza posed, not the buffoon on the floor.

Miguel tilted his head slightly to the side and added, "You said my … _third_ mistake, hmm? Please tell me what you perceive as my first and second."

"Coming here. Then believing that you hold an ace-in-the-hole that can pressure me into negotiations. The reality is, you don't even have a sliver of a chance to get me to regard you as highly as a quickly passed gas in the midst of a tornado."

"You really, really, think me so inferior?" The intruder's head bobbed twice emphasizing the words, "really."

Batman had to rethink his approach. He meant every word that he said, but perhaps it wasn't wise to push it. Attacking the man's ego was intended to anger him enough to force him into making a mistake; a mistake which Bruce would capitalize upon quickly. But they don't make elite guards like they used to, evidently. This Miguel fellow was getting overly flustered. While the man held grenades in his hands, Bruce thought it wise to say nothing more.

But Plastic Man didn't see it that way. He interjected himself, saying, "I think he's right when he said you overshot your target, Bats. The guy's a genius."

Batman scowled down at the red-clad Pat O'Brian.

Still sitting on the kitchen floor with his legs in an 8:20 split (if he was a clock, that is), Pat continued. "He came to the back door in a beat-up poncho saying that he was hiding from the fight and he was hungry.

"I let him in and gave him a half an orange that was on the table. But he didn't grab the orange. He grabbed my wrist and judo-flipped me. Boy, he sure out-smarted me."

Everything inside of Bruce wanted to yell, "A block of wood could out-smart you, you imbecile!"

He instead responded in an even tone. "Perhaps, when faced with a diversion from an established plan, you should first consult an experienced League member."

Plastic Man nodded his head like a bobble-head doll. Then his eyes turned to examine the fruit that was inches from his face. The captain felt the suppressed anger in the masked crusader. He decided to return the favor of stoking an angry flame. Miguel's fingers released the grenade rings long enough to pat the seated imbe—eh, hero's head.

"There, there. Murcielago has a very nast—"

Suddenly, Plastic man let out a yell and his elastic neck shot his head up like a bullet. The back of his skull struck the elite guard's face. The nanosecond of surprise was all that Batman needed to snatch the grenades away and toss them into the room behind him.

Batman and Miguel Florencio dela Fuerza instantly erupted with a storm of martial arts attacks and deflections.

"Sorry," Plastic Man said from somewhere in the room. "I bit into the orange and the acidy juice got into my eye."

Inside of 20 seconds, Batman was gaining dominance in the fight. The blood rushing from Miguel's nose wasn't as troublesome as the blood spilling from a gash on the right side of his forehead. The life-liquid was blinding the eye underneath the wound. Bruce had to wait just a little longer. His opponent's vision concern and his newfound doubts about besting the Dark Knight were distracting, making him careless. Bruce knew that the opening for the knockout punch would soon come. But then, the unexpected occurred.

Suddenly, the elite guard fell backwards, hitting his head hard on the kitchen floor. Bruce looked at the man's raised feet and found Pat's back under them. The intruder had tripped over Plastic Man, who had been on his hands and knees. Plastic Man's upper body then sprang up straight. The fruit was in his right hand.

"I found it," he said turning to Batman with a wide smile. "I thought I had lost the orange."

Pat turned to the grimacing Miguel on the floor and began to express his excitement over his tracking skills, but stopped. He turned back to Batman as if he remembered the dire circumstance of the moment. "Oh," Pat said.

He then wrapped his fingers around the elite guard like a rope, pinning Miguel's arms to his torso.

"You might want to use the tablecloth over there to tie 'em up. My fingers might get a bit tired."

Batman turned the man onto his stomach and began to twirl the table cloth to fashion a lumpy cord. He tied Miguel's wrists close to his bound ankles and still had enough material to gag the man's mouth. All the while he was binding his opponent, Batman stared at the probationary Leaguer. O'Brian was constantly mucking the waters when he was sent on a League mission.

Clark had always backed up Bruce in the League meetings. To repay him, Bruce withheld his veto when voting to accept Plastic-Imbecile into the famed group. Bruce okayed a 9-month trial membership for O'Brian. _Throw Clark a bone_, he thought. The next time he throws Clark a bone, it'll be aimed straight at that thick skull of his. Damn it, Diana better set the guy straight and make him toilet-flush his Pollyanna view of losers.

"Well, at least we got everyone," Pat concluded as he opened the kitchen door to the outside again. "I mean if Supes and Wondy ditched the battle hounds and this spying guard dude escaped their notice, the children would still be danger, right? He'd signal when the army could come back."

Batman wondered, _where did that thought come from?_ _Was O'Brian really a brain-float? Or was this_ _fool in full possession of his faculties?_ Is it possible that he only fouled things up when he found an assignment too easy? Was complicating things a way to entertain himself before delivering the hammer-blow? Whether he was a bungler or just bored, Bruce would still have to talk with him before his next assignment.

"Okay Plastic," Bruce said after securing the fallen foe. He walked over to Pat, who was looking at the mountainside. "Go outside and see if there are any more stragglers. Do nothing, but alert me if there are."

With that, Bruce pushed hard on Plastic Man's back. When he managed to stop his forward movement, Plastic Man turned to say something to the senior member of the Justice League. Unfortunately, Batman had quickly closed the door behind him.

Bruce picked up the grenades from the living room floor on his way to the front foyer. "Is the area secured, Superman?" he asked through his transmitter.

"I'm coming back from depositing that last of them, Batman."

Bruce opened the double doors to look out. On the neglected road he saw Diana standing a distance from the Orphanage. She was a lovely contrast to the damaged surroundings.

Then the sun peeked through the clouds. The rays revealed a long thin shadow proceeding from the roof and stretching towards Wonder Woman. Bruce instantly knew that the idiot was checking out Diana from the rooftop.

"Plastic, your location," Bruce transmitted.

"Just surveying the area, Señor Serious. And it looks very well formed and attractive."

Diana interrupted, "You had well be speaking about the landscape, Mr. O'Brian. Because if you're referring to something else, I'll shove your rear down your throat, making _you_ not well formed at all. I could include that I'll make you 'not the slightest bit attractive,' but Mother Nature has already beaten me to it."

The thin shadow retreated quickly before the clouds hid the sun again.

"Plastic," Bruce said, "I will speak to you about decorum over the airwaves. Diana, you already know about our professional standards— please remain focused."

Batman added, "Plastic, go inside and lead the children down, please."

Bruce swept his eyes from left to right. The silence was appreciated. Just then Superman landed by Diana. She turned to him and reciprocated his goofy smile. Bruce released a moan— the sun had broken through a small portion of the clouds and bathed the two figures in a spotlight.

"Oh, spare me," Bruce said with a shake of his head. "This is too corny, too stupid to be happening."

Bruce took his high powered Bat-noculars out of his utility belt. He not only needed to look beyond the sickening scene in front of him, but he needed to check something out.

Diana tore her eyes away from Super-Stud long enough to spot it. She pointed and said, "U.N. Convoy at one o'clock."

"Wonderful," Bruce said sarcastically. "Brave U.N. Peacekeepers finally come out of hiding when the shooting stops."

The six trucks advanced slowly from between the boulders and bushes and towards the heroes.

"I'll meet them," Diana said intending to snidely return his remark. "I would ask you to do it, but the League has a professional code of conduct that excludes talking down to people."

Diana took Clark's arm and they walked towards the trucks. She then addressed her close pal by his Kryptonian name—as if that was a sign to Clark's other friend that she was in Clark's inner, INNER circle.

Perhaps there was a special honor to that. When she figured it out, she should tell someone… who actually cares.

"Kal, tell me more about your Grandmother, Linda."

Bruce felt a small case of annoyance coming on. Clark had better not mention anything about Aruba.

"Well she always said, that you need to pay attention to signs that you're getting old. Every part of your body hurts and whatever doesn't hurt, you forgot what it's used for, anyway. You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there. If you forget where you put your glasses, you don't even look for them. By the time you find your glasses you're too tired to read, anyway.

"My Grandma said that an old appearance can help your memory. One day she was combing her hair in front of the mirror and she stopped to stare into her face. She suddenly remembered, "Hmm, I forgot to eat my prunes this morning."

Wonder Woman was loudly enjoying every second of the nonsense that granny passed on to her twit grandchild. Bruce wasn't. Just as he was about to tell them to turn off their communicators, Diana turned towards Bruce's direction and asked, "Kal, isn't that so lovely?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: GOOD GOD, WOMAN!

Bruce figured it out. Diana must have known that Bruce was cringing at the Kent Family's version of "gems of wisdom" as much as she was enjoying it. These days she was showing a mischievous streak (another of Clark's bad influences). It must have seemed too tempting, too hilarious not to turn around and see the stoic Batman going through facial contortions.

Now, when Diana turned towards Bruce's direction and commented on the attractiveness of the view, Superman also turned. The red-and-blue juggernaut nodded in agreement. Normally Bruce had no problem in believing that when folks talked in grand elucidations, they were talking about him; but in this case that meant that Diana and Clark would have had to suddenly come down with a severe case of GOOD TASTE. And Bruce knew better. The dark crusader lowered his binoculars and did an about-face. There, descending the grand staircase that led to the front doors were the children and caretakers. Yes, they looked tattered and disheveled, but even Bruce admitted that their precession was beautiful …. Well, except for the red-clad, shades-wearing idiot behind them.

"Okay, step lively," Pat said. "This is the end of our tour and please don't try to take any souvenirs. We nailed everything down, you know."

Ever the playful ham, Clark said, "Let's give these kids a treat. I'll bet they'll want to see a flying truck."

Bruce spun back around to the duo and agreed that Superman should fly the transport truck the rest of the way.

"If they're going to get a treat, why can't I fly it here, Ug— eh— Superman?"

"Because it takes a certain classy nature to do it with style. And only one of us has that."

"I agree," Diana smiled as they neared the Peacekeepers. "Why then am I not doing it, instead of you?"

Diana playfully used her finger on his chin to flick her partner's face upwards. The Bat-noculars caught it and Bruce found himself smiling.. . for a second.

The powerful twosome was shown the transport truck. Bruce saw Diana and Clark playfully elbowing each other out of the way. He's probably calling her "Hid" now. That will change.

Poor Clark didn't have Bruce's experience. A woman will accept a form of teasing from a friend, but those same words will not be tolerated from a lover. Different playing field, higher standards. After they come into an intimate relationship, if Clark lets that word accidently slip … HOOOO BOOOY!

Seconds later, the children ran onto the front yard with wide eyes, screeches and giggles. The smiling pair—Superman and Wonder Woman— was lowering the truck to the ground. Bruce, still on the porch, reflected again.

They took a long time to secure their _best friends_ status. They knew each other more than just well, so this courtship should be quick. Then after the wedding, poor Clark had better remember to continue courting Diana a weekend per month. A happy wife means a happy life.

And though Clark was going to be graced with the most beautiful and trustworthy of mates, Batman fought back a devilish smile concerning his_ unfortunate_ pal. If a normal husband had his fill of his argumentative normal wife, all he had to do is hop into his car and drive for hours. Then he'd return home when he knew she was asleep. Now seriously, is there any fool out there who thinks that Superman could fly to any destination where Wonder Woman couldn't follow?

As Plastic Man walked towards the two powerhouse heroes and the children, a noble figure joined Batman on the portico. In the brief minutes that he spent with the man, Pastor Ernesto Flores had won his respect.

Bruce knew the answer before he asked, "You aren't going with them?"

"Why?" the thin, graying man replied. "I could contribute nothing more. You said that Wayne Enterprises would help put these children into loving foster homes."

While the children were mesmerized by Wonder Woman and Superman, Batman noticed that O'Brian was warily looking at the orange that was still in his hand. The idiot appeared to believe that if he bit into it again, the fruit would extract vengeance once more. As for the other two—the "Super" and "Wonder" monikers be damned. How could their cheek muscles not hurt after showing so much white for so long?

The pastor smiled and brought Bruce's mind back to their conversation. "I appreciate the venture into uncharted venue for the industrial giant. I've enormous confidence that God will guide and bless Mr. Wayne, his workers and the League for your care.

"As for myself, I need, and I want, to stay. There will be more orphans to take care of before the war is over. This is my mission and I would be sorely remiss to compromise my duty."

The pastor continued, "I can lend you two of my helpers to aid in the transition of life for the youngsters, but I and my staff will remain to do the Lord's work."

Bruce knew all this. Despite the physical differences, Bruce felt that, when he looked at the old fellow, he was looking at himself. The mission was their life's goal. Personal safety would have to be put on the shelf until the work was done.

"If you will excuse me, kind sir, I have some good-bye hugs to deliver."

"By all means, Pastor." Bruce replied. Batman saw the children gathered in front of the transport truck's rear gate. The farewells predictably produced outstretched little hands, wailing, and teary eyes.

**_OH LORD,_** he said to himself. _That dope, Clark, isn't wiping his own eyes, is he? Diana better help the_ _man get a grip. He's an embarrassment._

After seeing more trembling little lips and teary cheeks, Bruce turned away to lift his cowl. The back of his right index finger brushed one eye. Damn, how did dirt manage to get through his eye filter?

Oh, speaking of dirt…. Bruce rushed to the kitchen where Miguel was on his side, wiggling on the floor. The hapless elite guard raised his head as Batman knelt beside him.

"Since you have no qualms about endangering children once, you'll likely do it again. To prevent that from happening, I have no qualms telling the U.N. Peacekeepers that you are a rebel and you have to be returned to your people. Now you can look them in the face and feel the same terror they would have felt if you were in control."

The horrified man's eyes screamed in a decibel point beyond the range of any human voice.

Referring to his plan Batman concluded, "It's a little thing I picked up from a friend."

A pale mist emitted from Batman's gloved fingertips. The fumes found Miguel's nose and the man's head hit the floor again. Batman untied the man and stripped him of his uniform (save his pants). He then put the discarded poncho back on the cruel interrogator. That was how he gained access to the orphanage, so it was fitting that he left the same way.

In seconds, Batman was outside talking to the troops about the "rebel" inside. He then approached the truck that was to carry the children.

Batman was a man of action, not a spectator. Given his respect for the U.N., he found it easy to knife out small "windows" along the sides of the canvas that covered the seating area of the Peacekeepers' truck. If the children wanted to see the sights from above, they will. Diana was going to fly the truck to Brazil, where they would have lunch. Then Superman would carry them over water to Aruba where the orphans could play on the beach and sleep over at Grandma Kent's place. Then they would make their way to their new homes.

Pastor Flores and Pat O' Brian in waved farewell to the children. Batman joined in with one hand waving and the other pressing the transmitter on his chest. Aquaman answered saying that he was on the controls of the Justice League Receiving Station. Bruce requested the beaming-up of Plastic Man and himself to the station.

"Can't I stay with them?" Pat pleaded. "I was never in a flying truck."

Diana's powerful leg-jump covered the 30-foot distance between them. She then roughly grabbed his arm. "Let's put it this way, O'Brian… If you stay long enough, you'll eventually say something to offend me. And at 600 feet above ground, you'll find yourself sitting on nothing but air in a heartbeat."

"Besides," Bruce called out. "I'm not staying at the Watch Tower. You will be doing the report."

Diana's warning was more convincing than Bruce's words in changing Pat's mind. Batman noticed that Superman waved Wonder Woman back to his side, and away from the truck.

Bruce heard him say, "I have to say something, please." Then Superman's communicator was shut off. His back was towards Bruce and Pat. Did Clark really think that Bruce needed lip-reading to know what was going to occur? Diana's face was plain for Batman to see. Her thin smile died as she thought he was about to deliver bad news. Suddenly her eyes widened and a wider smile exploded across her face. As she reached around for Clark's neck, the bodies of Plastic Man and Batman shimmered and then phased out of the scene.

"THANK GOODNESS!" Bruce said out loud.

Upon finding himself standing in the Justice League Receiving Area, Plastic Man turned to his co-traveler. "Hey, was Wondy about to attack Big Blue? Do you think we should—?"

"Mind our business?" Bruce said cutting him short. "Absolutely."

Batman turned to Aqauman and asked that the small cameras attached to the sides of the orphanage be included in the Monitor Room's surveillance routine. Then Bruce added, "Arthur, I'll return in five minutes, and then I need to be placed on top of the roof of Wayne Towers, in Chicago. First I need to attend to a pressing concern.

Even the staunchest Batman critic had to admit that it sounded classier than saying, "I have to go to the bathroom and pee."

Before Batman made it to the door that led to the hallway, he heard an aghast, _"WHAT IS THIS?"_

The dark figure turned to see the half orange—no doubt, with teeth marks on one side of it—sitting on the counter top of the Transporter Desk Console. With the fruit between O'Brian and the Sea Monarch, the dolt responded.

"It's a memento from me to you. Bet'cha you don't have one of these growing in your undersea kingdom. Ehh, be careful how you bite into it. It has a nasty temper."

The blonde male leaned forward to peer into Plastic Man's dark glasses. Bruce made a hasty departure. If the short-tempered Arthur was going to send the moron to the hospital, he didn't want to be there to stop it.

Actually, Bruce knew that the Sea King wouldn't go beyond shouting at the fool, but it was a nice thought.

It was noon in Wayne Towers when Bruce found himself hesitating before activating his voice-command phone. He was going to request that his pilot go to New York tomorrow and bring back a passenger. Yes, he enjoyed the arrival of the attractive Lois Lane on those first-of-the-month Friday evenings. But he enjoyed their Sunday afternoon good-byes far, far more. When she was in a vertical position (which was about 13 hours out of 24), her nature was a hundred times more acidic than O'Brian's recent eye-squirting enemy.

Mercifully, his secretary interrupted her indecisive employer with a notification of a phone call on the "urgency line." The caller identified herself as Ms. Dee Emma Zahn.

He rolled his eyes— that had to be Clark's idea.

"It's Diana, Bruce. I don't need to tell you about Clark and me. You probably knew about it a week ago."

Smart princess, Bruce thought.

"You don't need for me to tell you, all is well either. You can hear the children laughing in the background."

Correct again, he thought.

"So let's cut to the chase. Because Grandma Linda loved it the most, we're trying to get the Margareta Island property back from Venezuela. If I can convince the thieving government to agree, the property in Aruba will be on the table again.

"Will you look at this?" Bruce muttered. "The time that they spent as a couple wasn't long enough to cool a cup of coffee and she was already muscling into his affairs like a wife. "

"But let's add this," Diana continued. "A V.I.P. bungalow on both beaches for family use— your staff cleans and caters.

"And Bruce— guaranteed free rooms for as many as twenty, anytime they are needed."

"GOOD GOD, WOMAN! HOW MANY STEEL-CRIB-BREAKING, POOP- DROPPING- FROM-THE-SKY, RUNNY NOSED BRATS DO YOU AND CLARK INTEND TO HAVE?"

* * *

Reference: Who is Grandma Kent? She was former 1940s movie heartthrob, Linda Turner. In the late '40s Linda met a very honest and lovable farmer from Kansas. She realized she had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in front of her. She packed up and left Slime-Behind-The-Tinsel Town (with plenty of change in her purse, by the way).

She had another headline-grabbing persona during the war years. If you care to investigate, use your search engine to punch up four words: Harvey Comics Black Cat.

Finally, I want thank the talented fiction writers at the Superman-Wonder Woman site. Their imaginations are sharp and entertaining. Their writing also taught me about character humanizing, naration, and story pacing.


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